


Reset

by alex_caligari



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, He gets better, Lance (Voltron) Dies, M/M, Minor Violence, Psychic vampire, Sort Of, smutty epilogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:35:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23487679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alex_caligari/pseuds/alex_caligari
Summary: Keith was hungry. Across the street stood a man surrounded by an aura of dark light. An aura of disease and sickness.The man was dying. Keith licked his lips.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 180
Collections: Just some pretty nice fics





	1. Chapter 1

Keith was hungry.

Around him, clubbers full of alcohol and drugs and life staggered into him and each other. They were so tempting, and Keith was desperate enough to risk feeding in a crowd. Ideally, he would isolate one person from the rest and go somewhere private, but the club was full of groups too savvy to let a friend leave with a stranger. He pushed his way out of the building for a break.

He could survive on little sips taken from dozens of people, but he had avoided taking a full meal for ages. No wonder he wasn’t pulling anyone in. He looked like crap, with clammy skin and glassy eyes. He leaned against the brick wall of the warehouse-turned-night club and breathed in. So much _life._ So rich and colourful and savoury. Keith wished he could appreciate the beauty rather than just feel starved.

Except there was a sour note in the kaleidoscope. A dark spot.

Keith opened his eyes and looked across the street. There, in the shadows, a man stood mirror-image to Keith leaning against the building. To human eyes, he looked average. Tall, lanky, dressed in a dark hoodie and lit by the drag of a cigarette. But to Keith, he was surrounded by an aura of black light.

The man was dying. Keith licked his lips.

He walked over and stood a few feet away. “Can I bum a smoke?”

The man looked him over and decided Keith wasn’t a threat. He held out the packet and a lighter. They stood smoking for a few minutes until the man said, “You don’t seem to be one of the party crowd.”

Keith glanced over. “Nah, not really my scene.”

“Then may I ask what you’re doing out here at one in the morning and in not too much of a hurry?”

Keith let his gaze travel over the man, who stared back with interest. “I’m guessing similar to what you’re doing out here.”

The man barked a laugh. “I like you.” He held out a hand. “I’m Lance.”

“Keith.” He shook Lance’s hand. The touch sent curls of static over his skin. Lance was pretty far gone, and now that Keith was standing close to him, he could see the hollowness of his face and the grey tinge to his skin. He cut to the chase. “You don’t look too well, my friend.”

Lance laughed again, softly and without humour. “Cancer is a bitch, and pancreatic cancer especially sucks _balls_.” He waved the cigarette towards the streetlight-bleached sky. “Came out to see people enjoying life and spend a night under the stars.”

“I’m sorry,” Keith said.

Lance shrugged. “It’s fine. You live long enough, cell mutation is inevitable.”

Keith frowned. Lance didn’t look much older than his late twenties. “So, what? All you wanted was to watch drunks in a gentrified industrial park?”

“Anything’s better than watching the walls and trying to ignore full-body pain.”

Stepping closer, Keith said. “I could help. With both things, actually.”

“You offering an overdose?” Lance stubbed out the cigarette on the bricks. “It’s not as much fun as you’d think.”

“No, not an overdose.” Keith stepped in front of Lance and cupped his face in his hands. Lance didn’t object. “Something better.” He kissed Lance, tasting the disease and the pain and the acceptance of defeat. Under it all was a vein of welcoming warmth as if Lance knew what Keith was offering and allowing it.

Keith drank it all in. His body filtered it and repaired itself to its usual vitality. It was wonderful.

They parted with a sigh. “Wow,” Lance said. “You weren’t kidding.”

A burst of laughter from across the street startled Keith. They needed privacy. “Want to duck into the alley with me?”

A slow smile spread across Lance’s face, showing the handsomeness under the waste. “Been a while since I’ve had a dalliance in an alley. Sure, let’s go.”

 _Dalliance_. Who talked like that? Keith shook his head as Lance grabbed his hand and led them further into the shadows. He found himself at the mercy of Lance’s hands and mouth and welcomed the loss of control. “Yes,” he gasped as cold fingers crawled up his shirt. Lance’s flickering life force poured into Keith as if Lance had thrown open the floodgates himself.

“Good,” Lance muttered. “Take it.”

Keith blinked. “What?”

“Just two people wanting to feel good, right?” Lance said. “Taking what they can get.” He smiled and tilted his head.

Keith didn’t _need_ to use a person’s throat to drain them, but it made it easier. Breathing over Lance’s pulse, he said, “I’m going to make it stop hurting.”

“Yes,” Lance said, tugging at Keith’s hair. “Beautiful.”

It was over quickly. A gasp, a sigh, and Keith was left cradling Lance’s limp body, taking in the peace on his face. There was so little life force left that Lance would have only lasted a week before succumbing to the cancer naturally. That’s what the autopsy would say when someone found the body in the next day or so. Keith left no marks or evidence of foul play.

Keith tucked the body next to a storage unit—the dumpster felt too disrespectful—and folded the long limbs to approximate a person who sat down and simply didn’t get up again.

“Thank you, Lance. I hope this small mercy is a fair exchange.” He turned and walked away.

&&&

Lance woke up cold and with a crick in his neck. He fell over from his seated position and groaned into the asphalt. “Fucking vampire,” he muttered. He rolled over to his back to stare at the sky. Still dark, so he wasn’t out long. He never was. Other than the physical discomfort of resurrecting on the street, Lance felt pretty good. Amazing, in fact. He loved the days after a reset when everything was new and fresh. The world was an adventure again, and Lance could experience it anew. Food, sleep, sex. It was glorious.

He stood and stretched, patting his pockets. Occasionally, he woke up with his wallet, watch, and shoes all gone before his body had even cooled, but tonight everything was intact. He even still had his cigarettes. He tapped the packet in thought before flinging it into the night. No need to court cancer before he had to.

But that Keith, on the other hand, _was_ something to court. What a fascinating creature. And he was a fantastic kisser. Lance just needed to find him first.

As he strolled out of the alley, a woman picking through the cigarette butts looked up. “Your friend took off already,” she said in a gruff voice. “Didja at least get paid first?”

“Oh, he was a complete gentleman.” Lance dug out his wallet and held a twenty-dollar bill out to the woman. “Know which way he went?”

She snatched the money and pointed. Lance walked away whistling.

It took him five days to locate Keith. In that time, Lance visited every woo-woo crystal shop and read every book on psychic vampires he could find. Most of it was contradictory and obvious nonsense. Keith hadn’t caused depression and lethargy, he had _eaten Lance’s life force until he died_. Keith was the real deal.

He also had a habit for shitty coffee. After locating him, Lance watched him for three more days as the vampire stopped by the same cheap deli every morning after a run. He looked better than when Lance first met him. Healthy and whole. Well-fed.

Considering his lifestyle, Lance had very few self-preservation instincts. So he thought nothing of following Keith up to his apartment one morning and knocking on the door. It was worth it to see Keith’s eyes widen in shock, and Lance pushed past him before he could shut the door in his face.

“Hello again,” Lance said. “You’re looking better.”

“You’re dead,” Keith said. “I killed you.”

“Might want to shut the door before you go shouting things like that.”

Keith growled as he slammed and locked the door. He advanced on Lance, teeth bared and fists clenched. “Explain. What are you?”

“Immortal,” Lance said. “More or less. I can die, but I come back.” No point in prevaricating.

Keith stilled. “Really?”

“Really.” Lance stepped into Keith’s space. “And you eat life force. I have plenty to give. Sounds like we might want to work together.”

“Work...together?”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Lance strolled around the apartment. Tiny, but well-kept. The few personal effects scattered around were beautiful little art pieces. Nothing kitschy or tacky. Lance approved. “You feed off me and you don’t have to worry about a dead body to clean up.”

That snapped Keith out of his shock. “Dead—what the fuck. This is crazy. _You’re_ crazy. I need a drink.”

“It’s nine in the morning.” Lance followed Keith into the galley kitchen. He found Keith staring into the open fridge without taking anything.

“I forgot I don’t have any alcohol.” He glanced at Lance. “It makes it harder to control how much I take.”

“If only there was someone with whom you didn’t have to worry about that,” Lance said, tapping a finger on his chin. He smiled at Keith’s scowl. “Look, I’d say let’s talk about this over coffee, but it’s not really a conversation you have in public. How about breakfast, here and now?”

With much grumbling, Keith managed to toast a bagel for each of them, and they sat across from each other at the tiny table. “If you’re immortal, why did you have cancer?”

“I seem to age on a cellular level, as in they still divide and die off, but they don’t deteriorate like a normal human, so I look the same age.” He grinned. “I was sixty-eight years into that cycle when you found me.”

Keith was staring again. Lance wanted to run his fingers through that unruly fringe. “How old are you, really?” Keith said.

Lance shrugged, brushing crumbs from his hands. “Several hundred years. I stopped counting. But the dying resets all the cells, so I’m practically a newborn.”

“You’re a phoenix.”

Another shrug. “If you like. Less fire and feathers, but close enough.” He stood up. “Come here, I want to try something.” And he held out a hand.

&&&

Keith hesitated. This guy was crazy. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. And if I die, I'll wake up in ten minutes anyway. Come on, trust me.”

Muttering curses, Keith stood and slid his hand into Lance’s. His life force was _pushed_ into Keith, who gasped at the strength of it. It was better than alcohol, better than drugs, better than any of the distracted or dying he had fed off for his whole life.

Lance was watching him carefully, and his voice was soft as he asked, “How often do you need to feed as you did with me?”

The initial rush was fading to something more manageable. Keith took a second to focus on the question. “Maybe six or seven months? Too often and it gets hard to hide the bodies.”

“What if you didn’t need to worry about bodies anymore? Just this, whenever you needed it.”

Keith pulled away. He had never managed to fully feed without killing the person. It was too good to be true. But the evidence was standing in front of him, beating heart and all.

“Plus,” Lance continued, “it wouldn’t have to be just life force. We could share other things.” At Keith’s startled glance, Lance smirked. “I mean, you didn’t _have_ to seduce me into that alley. But you did.”

Keith looked away and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry about that.”

Lance snorted. “Please, don’t _ever_ be sorry about that. I’m just sorry we didn’t get to finish what we started.” He stepped towards Keith, who took a matching step back. Lance’s face, so open and soft before, shuttered into blankness. “You won’t hurt me. Even if you took some energy by accident, it doesn’t hurt. It feels good. The other night, you literally ate my pain. It was fantastic.”

Instead of answering, Keith picked up the dishes for something to do. He clattered around with the sink for a moment, gathering his thoughts, before turning with his head up and chin stuck out. “Okay. We’ll try this. But if I think you’re deteriorating too fast, we stop. Okay?”

Grinning, Lance stuck out his hand again. “Deal.”

They shook, and Keith didn’t drop his hand. “What you were saying earlier...I mean, I have nowhere to be today.”

Lance blinked, then caught on. “Nor do I,” he said and hauled Keith in for a kiss.

&&&

Having Lance walk into Keith’s life freaked the guy right the fuck out. Half-convinced that he had finally snapped, Keith made Lance pay for every meal and coffee they bought for the next week just to see him interact with the cashiers and make sure he wasn’t a ghost.

Lance thought it was funny.

The grumpy vampire was acting squirrely in the days that followed. If there was one thing Lance had learned from centuries of life, it was patience. He didn’t push and finally, his waiting paid off.

While visiting one day, Lance was reading one of Keith’s books—a Swedish murder mystery, very bleak, very Keith—and sprawled on the couch when Keith pushed his feet off to sit beside him. “You died,” Keith said.

“Yes. And?” Lance didn’t look up.

“What’s it like?”

Lance sighed and put the book on his chest. “That’s complicated. Sometimes it’s quiet, sometimes painful, sometimes terrifying. I’ve died a lot of different ways. But with you?” He drew his feet back up and wriggled them into Keith’s lap. “It’s pleasant. Like falling asleep under a heavy duvet. Peaceful. Warm. Even for a vampire, you don’t strike me as needlessly cruel, so I’m sure it’s the same for the other people you’ve fed on.”

Keith was silent as he drummed his fingers on Lance’s calf. “And...death? Actually being dead? What’s that like?”

“You know how when you’re dreaming and everything feels so real, even if it’s impossible, but something shifts and you realize that you’re dreaming and hence still sleeping?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s not like that. There’s no realization of ‘oh, I’m dead’ because there’s nothing left to realize it. Sometimes I only know I’ve died because I wake up.” He picked up the book again. “Anyway, no point in worrying about it now.”

Keith was quiet for a moment longer, then said, “I didn’t think my life could get weirder.”

“You’re welcome,” Lance said.

&&&

Despite Keith’s misgivings, their lives turned out to stay fairly normal. Over the next four months, their partnership evolved from the weirdest fuck buddies in history to friendship to a deeper affection. Lance visited Keith more and more often until he convinced Keith to move out of his tiny apartment and in with him, in order to “be more convenient for feedings,” but they both knew it was a ruse. Keith couldn’t deny that he found pleasure in Lance’s company, and not just from his seemingly endless life energy. They settled into a bizarre new routine of domesticity and finding hunting grounds for Keith.

They were strolling through the converted industrial area where they first met, Keith sipping from drunk clubbers as Lance lured them in with his doe eyes and skinny jeans, when Keith stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Hold up,” he said, putting a hand to Lance’s chest. “Something’s wrong.” He peered into the shadows. “Someone isn’t supposed to be here.”

A person detached themselves from the darkness, a rough-looking man with a cruel twist to his mouth. “I think it’s you who is in the wrong place.” He flashed a box cutter. “Wallets, now.”

Keith felt Lance stiffen and moved to block him. The mugger’s aura showed he meant business; intimidation wouldn’t work. But if Keith could get close enough to touch him, he could knock the guy out. Unfortunately, Lance again demonstrated that he had no self-preservation instincts.

“Look, buddy,” he said as he stepped around Keith, “we don’t want any trouble. Let’s just go our separate ways and forget all about this.”

The mugger growled and moved to push Lance back against the wall, bringing the knife up.

On several occasions, Keith had felt anger and rage and fury. They all boiled up inside of him, but never had he felt the edge of protectiveness like he did now. No way was a tweaker with broken teeth going to get the best of them. They were two impossible beings, the stuff of nightmares and legend.

Keith grabbed for the man’s collar, trying to find skin, when the man jerked away. Lance grunted, but Keith was too focused on his prey to notice.

Keith didn’t feed on the mugger. Instead, he drew out all the paranoia and fear that rode the man’s addled mind and brought it to the front. Let him drown in his own emotions for a while. Keith had no room for pity.

The man let out a choked little cry and took off running. “Asshole!” Keith shouted after him. “Teach him to rob a perfectly nice couple like us.” A small, wet sound was all Keith got in reply. He looked behind him and all the heat from his anger turned to ice in his bones.

Lance was leaning against the wall with a hand over a growing dark spot on his shirt. “Shit,” he said, spitting out blood. “The punk got me good. Punctured lung.”

Keith was at his side instantly, pressing his own hand over the wound. Lance’s pain whited-out his vision, and he blinked it away. “Oh my god, Lance, this is bad.” He tried to focus on Lance’s face instead of the blood. It was so hot under his hands. “We should call an ambulance.”

“And then what?” Lance wheezed as Keith helped him slide down the wall. “I bleed out in the bus and then poof! I come back to life?”

“Shut up.” The anger was back, but only to cover the fear. “They’ll help you. There’ll be no poofing.”

“No, babe.” Lance tangled his hand with Keith’s and pulled him closer. “I’ve been here before. Too much blood filling my lungs. I got maybe ten minutes? At best?”

“No!” Keith’s vision blurred again. He blinked in confusion until tears fell on their hands. “You can’t—I just found you. You can’t leave me yet.”

“Oh, darling.” Lance smiled, revealing blood-stained teeth. “It’s messy and painful the natural way. But you can help.” He lifted their hands. “You can reset me, right now.”

“What?”

“Just take away the pain like you did that first night. Believe me, it’s a much nicer way to go. Please, Keith. I don’t want to die except by your hand ever again. Don’t let that punk steal your kill.”

Keith shook his head. Sure, he helped people in pain die all the time. Or he used to. Since Lance, he was less tempted to hunt as he did before. Could he do that to someone he liked, that he cared about, that he—that he—

“It’s okay, babe,” Lance whispered. “I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

Keith blinked back the tears and took a shaky breath. “Okay. You better be right about this, you asshole.” Lance laughed, then sighed as Keith siphoned off his pain and life force. The rattle in his chest slowed and quieted until it finally stopped altogether.

Limp hand dropping from his own, Keith ignored the thrum of energy under his skin—why did Lance taste so _good,_ even in pain?—and watched Lance’s body for any signs of recovery.

Five minutes passed. Ten. As his watch ticked towards fifteen minutes, Keith was about to cut his losses and run off into the night, hoping that no one saw him with a body. But he couldn’t pull himself away just yet. Soon, Lance said he’d be back soon...

A violent shudder had Keith jerking back. Lance breathed deeply, no sign of blood or struggle in the movement now. Keith pushed Lance’s shirt up. The skin was blood-slick but unbroken.

“See?” Lance said. His head lolled against the wall. “Good as new.”

Keith pulled him into a rough hug. “Don’t you ever do something like that again.” He kissed the side of Lance’s neck. “Idiot.”

Lance chuckled. “Love you too.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One year later: an epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't help myself. Here's the smutty, fluffy excerpt I took out and love too much to leave out.
> 
> Never leave a darling behind, I say.

It took longer than Keith expected to feel the need to hunt again. Feeding from Lance twice in four months seemed to glut him, and he began wondering if he could survive off sips indefinitely. Not to mention that Lance tended to shove his life force into Keith whenever he looked a bit peaky.

An unexpected—but very welcome—side-effect of Keith feeding on Lance was it acted as an aphrodisiac. Keith would be running delicate circles over Lance’s wrist while on the sofa one moment, and the next Lance would be pulling him to the bedroom with his hand down Keith’s pants.

Then, on their one-year anniversary—or near enough; Keith counted from the day they started their arrangement while Lance counted from the day Keith killed him the first time, something that Keith called deeply messed-up—Lance suggested Keith fully feed on him again.

Keith blanched. “I’m not going to _kill you_ as an anniversary gift.”

“It’s only murder if I stay dead,” Lance answered.

Keith had yet to get used to Lance’s flippant attitude to his demise, temporary though it may be. “You’re such an asshole.”

“Trust me,” Lance said, sauntering closer. “It’ll feel amazing for both of us, and I’ll be back refreshed and ready to go for round two before you know it.”

“I—” Keith looked up at Lance, seeing the same openness and trust as he did the day they met. Lance _always_ trusted Keith; Keith had slowly learned to do the same.

Keith today was irrevocably different now from what he was a year ago. It wasn’t just having a constant source of energy. Lance himself had changed Keith. Like Lance’s energy had infused Keith’s bones and organs and very cells with light and air. He breathed more now. Lance had reached in and unlocked his lungs, and now Keith was aware of his diaphragm moving deeper in his chest when they were curled up together in bed. Keith never allowed himself to have people out of fear of them getting too close, but now that fear was flipped; he was afraid to let this go.

“Okay,” he said. “But if you’re in any pain—”

“We stop, I know.” Lance looped his arms around Keith’s waist and dropped a kiss on his nose. Such an absurdly sweet gesture in the middle of a bizarre conversation. “Take me to bed, love.”

&&&

Lance let Keith control how it went. Keith didn’t want to fuck him, and Lance could understand that; suddenly being balls-deep in a corpse was a mood killer. But that didn’t mean Keith wasn’t going to be a touch-starved romantic about it.

Keith would have huffed and glared and brushed him off if Lance ever said it out loud, but he was the softest and most intense lover Lance had had in his long life. Gentle hands stripped his clothes from him and laid him on the bed. An insistent mouth mapped his skin. Hot breath trailed down his stomach. Tiny fizzes of Keith’s power danced across Lance’s nerves.

Lance had never lied to Keith about anything, especially not how the feeding felt. It made him pliant and soft, like he was a little tipsy, and he murmured nonsense into the air. It was easier to simply pour his feelings into Keith, all his love and desire and affection. He smiled as he heard Keith’s breath catch.

Keith had learned enough control that he could draw out the feeding, and Lance was treated to the bizarre combination of getting close to orgasm and passing out at the same time. He nearly burst out laughing as the phrase “la petite mort” floated through his head, but the sensation of Keith straddling his hips and taking them both in hand refocused his attention.

“Keith,” he slurred. “Good, so good. Beautiful. Love this, love...you.”

“Shh,” Keith said. “I got you. You can let go now.”

Lance nodded as Keith bent to kiss him. It was the final spark he needed; distantly, he felt himself coming over Keith’s hand at the same time his heart stuttered to a stop. He gasped into Keith’s mouth, and Keith kissed him into oblivion.

&&&

Keith cleaned Lance while he waited, trying to think of pampering a lover and not washing a body for burial. Lance’s skin was beginning to stiffen when he took a wheezing breath, startling Keith. He would _never_ get used to that.

“Morning, babe,” Lance rasped.

“I hate you,” Keith answered with a smile.

“Nah, you love me.” Lance stretched, purposefully letting slip the blanket Keith tucked around him.

Keith let his gaze travel over the long, lean body, healed of all the little nicks and marks that came from life, and shining brighter than anything Keith had ever met. “More than you think.”

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my upcoming projects at [trello](https://trello.com/b/RbCABI7q/fic-writing) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/alex_caligari)!


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